Finding Their Way
by Bloominout
Summary: With the threat of the apocalypse looming, the angels are intent on keeping Dean out of the way. Struck with amnesia, Dean must rediscover who he is, and what's really in his heart. Will he remember in time to stop the last seal from being broken?Dean/OFC
1. Prologue

Author's note: This is an alternate ending to season 4. Please don't make assumptions about what was revealed in the show.

Prologue:

Coming off the job was always difficult. An Albanian Bolla had been spotted south of Putnam County, Ohio. Snake bastard that sleeps throughout the entire year. It awakens and devours any human in immediate sight. This thing was powerful and vicious. It was a fire-breathing monster that took them two weeks to track down and kill. The fact that they were just a little too late to save the latest victim weighed heavy on Dean and Sam Winchester.

The people who died, the people they couldn't save, well it just never got easier. They were headed off to the next town, to the next motel to save the next victim. It was a hard life, but it was their life. Trading happiness for the lives of innocent people would never be an option.

It was Sam's turn to drive. So he had been, for four hours. His eyes were starting to burn. They'd been running on empty for a long time. The threat of the nearing apocalypse had everyone in an uproar. The secrets he had were weighing on him and there was no way to tell Dean.

When Ruby had told him drinking demon blood would make him stronger, he'd rejected the idea. But things were getting more desperate. The apocalypse was on the horizon and Lilith needed to die before she broke the last seal. The demon blood empowered him. It made him feel like he could do anything.

The problem was that Ruby hadn't been around in weeks to let him drink from her. She wasn't returning his calls, and he felt near bursting. The small flask of blood he had was quickly running dry. He was feeling weaker and weaker with each passing hour.

He'd rather drive as fast and as far as he could with his brother unconscious. He looked over at Dean, slumped down in the passenger seat, his head gently bobbing on the window as Sam drove. It was an easier ride with the way their relationship had been developing. Sam was stressed and tired and the only way to get through right now was with a coffee run. He'd stop and get coffee and restart the drive. He pulled off on the next exit and into a 24-hour diner, leaving Dean in the car. There was no reason to wake him. Honestly, he didn't feel like hearing the snide remarks. He hated walking on eggshells around Dean.

o0o

Dean opened his eyes, the silence quickly noticeable. He rubbed at his eyes; the few hours he'd managed to nab while Sam was driving didn't seem to make a difference. His body was aching from the recent case they'd just finished. Dean couldn't remember a time where he'd had to flat out run for that long.

He opened the car door and stepped out. The night's air was brisk and bit violently at his face. He stretched his arms over his head, his jacket lightly rising above his belt on his jeans.

He could see Sam inside, waiting at the counter. It was a good thing Sam hadn't woken him. At this point Dean would do anything to avoid a confrontation with Sam. The kid had been keeping secrets, and acting weird ever since he'd been back from hell. It wouldn't be too long till the fight between them broke into something they might not be able to repair.

Dean felt a presence, a slight movement from behind him. He turned expecting nothing but the wind's movement in the trees. Instead, Castiel stood in front of him, the light from the diner cast over him. His face was firm, never giving anything away. Castiel never seemed to miss an opportune time to pop up. They'd just managed to finish a case, and here he was showing up to blab on about the coming apocalypse. Like Sam and him didn't know the severity of what they were up against.

Before Dean could say anything Castiel stepped forward, his trench blowing swiftly in the wind.

"I'm sorry," he said, and raised his hand to Dean's forehead.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One:

_**Shorewood Hills, Wisconsin**_

Dean's eyes flickered open. He tried to move his arms, the exhaustion washing over him. He instantly started to cough and gasp. He circled his grip around the tube, ripping it free from his throat. He could hear the sound of someone running at him, the shouting growing louder and louder, but it was difficult not to concentrate on the pain engulfing his entire body.

"Sir! Sir! Mr. Smith, calm down!"

But he couldn't catch his breath.

"What... what happen?" he gasped out.

The nurse checked his vitals. Glancing at her watch, she said, "You've been in a car accident, but you're going to be all right."

Car accident? He didn't remember driving a car. What the hell was going on? He tried for a minute, to grasp on to anything. There was nothing, a complete black hole spinning in his head. He pushed a hand to his head hoping to ease the pain. He felt the unfamiliar spiky hair and the several day old scruff on his face. Nausea made its way through panic when he felt the open wounds littering his face and his stomach rolled.

"Sir?" The nurse spoke. "Are you all right? I can give you something for the pain."

Dean thought for a minute realizing anything was better than this. "Oh God, yes."

He rested his head back. He couldn't seem to keep it up, and he couldn't shake the dizziness away.

The nurse turned to walk away.

"Wait," he called out, as loud as he could manage. His throat was still throbbing from the tube. He seized into an uncontrollable coughing fit.

He watched as the nurse poured a plastic cup full of water. "Why can't I remember anything?" he asked, sipping, the fear starting to set in.

She looked at him quizzically. "You can't remember anything? Do you remember how you got here?"

He opened his mouth, and closed it again quickly. There was nothing. An inner black hole swirling around in his head screaming at him and all he could do was gape.

"I'll get the doctor."

A million thoughts ran through his head. How the hell did he get there? Was he alone? His head throbbed repeatedly, doing nothing for the pangs in his stomach. He was lost, completely shattered by what was happening around him. He leaned back, willing sleep to come.

o0o

Carley hurried down the hall of the hospital.

She couldn't get the image out of her head. She saw his face in her dreams last night, how shocked and broken he'd looked when she ran from the car to cradle him. She'd waited there, holding him until the ambulance had arrived, running over and over in her mind how she could have been stupid enough to let something like this happen. Then his face had sharpened into Cameron's and there had been nothing but guilt and pain. She'd tossed and turned as he shouted how dumb and useless she was. He'd always told her she was a waste of life and it always seemed to have an impact on her, even in her dreams. Even if he couldn't touch her now, the past could always rear its ugly head.

She'd been at the hospital all night. She felt horrible about the situation, exhausted and clueless on what to do next. She hadn't been able to leave for hours. He hadn't woken up, and she thought that it'd be best to just get home, have a shower and come back and worry. She hadn't done anyone any good being shaken and covered in blood. The five cups of coffee she had through the night didn't help her any how. She was grateful she was no longer struggling with sleep in a battered hospital chair, willing her nerves to calm down.

Carley ran up to the desk. Fidgety and nervous, she tapped on the counter until she got the attention of a nurse.

"Hi dear. Back to see Dean again?"

"Yeah, thanks so much for helping me when I couldn't pull myself together," she looked down sheepishly, "He just never woke up and I -"

The nurse smiled, quickly squeezing Carley's hand for effect. "I know. He's awake."

"Oh, he is? Thanks so much," Carley clamored off, a mixture of nerves and relief. She was having something close to a nervous breakdown and couldn't stop herself from the anxious paced walk.

She paused outside of the room she'd spent almost the entire night in. At least when she went in this time she wouldn't have to see his lifeless body stuffed with all the tubes, the machines rhythmically beeping.

What was she going to say? 'Hi my name's Carley. I'm the crazy bitch who ran over you with my car.' Yeah, smooth.

She continued to pace. She knew she had to go in. She couldn't live with herself if she didn't talk to him, apologize, and offer anything she could. Christ, she thought nervously biting her nails. She almost killed him. Knowing that he was awake wasn't enough. She stopped, held her head up high and went through the door, full force. She decided the best way to do it was to say it all at once, get it all out. Then deal with his reaction.

"Look—" she started and was taken back by his surprised face. He was looking at her, as if he were paused on the television. His fork was full of Jell-O, mid way to his mouth. The TV was on in the background. Was he watching Oprah?

He slurped up the last remaining Jell-O. Carley lifted an eyebrow in confusion. Wasn't he supposed to be frail and on his deathbed? She'd worked herself up so much thinking that he was dying because of her and he was watching Oprah and eating orange Jell-o?

She realized she hadn't had a chance to really see what he looked like in the haste of all the drama and confusion, and the blood. She felt her breath hitch a little. He was gorgeous. Despite the hospital gown and the Jell-O dribbling off his chin, he had that whole rebel without a cause aura about him. Short dirty blond hair, the scruff built over his strong bone structure. His hazel eyes bore into her. They were eyes that held secrets, made girls swoon and in one sharp look could kill. His lips parted into a smile, adding one more dangerous aspect to his face.

"Hey, do I know you?" Dean asked. That smile had surely been the cause of broken hearts.

She was the first attractive person he'd seen since he'd woken up and there was no sense of wasting his energy on one of the ugly nurses. Her auburn hair ran past her shoulders, thick and wavy. Freckles littered the small petite nose and made her baby blues flash an innocence that had his heart leaping. She was short, curvy and surely deceiving. She seemed like someone built small, but for strength.

"Well no, not really. But I'm the reason you're here."

His smile dropped a little, all thoughts of flirting forgotten. "So you're the one who hit me?"

Carley lowered herself into the chair next to his bed hoping that it would negate some of her obvious fidgeting. "Yeah, look- I'm really sorry. I guess that doesn't make up for anything, but it's all I've got right now," she looked at him sheepishly, covering her face.

Dean didn't know what to say. He was looking at the person responsible for making him feel alone, lost, confused. She had been responsible for hitting him; his wounds and stitches were a result of the accident. Something inside him gripped at his gut; she was the one who'd caused everything. He tried to remember what the doctor had said. He could have had amnesia before she hit him. The car accident might not have had anything to do with his memory loss.

All that was found on him was a credit card with the name Dean Smith. He guessed that was his name. He was carrying the card wasn't he? If there had been another form of identification it was bound to have been lost when he got hit. The hopeful feeling he'd had when she walked in had vanished. It seemed like the lingering questions he'd been worried about all day wouldn't go away. Did he have a family? A job? A wife? Was his amnesia temporary or something he'd have to life with for the rest of his life?

"I uh- I can't remember anything," Dean huffed out. He felt anger rising through him and was unaware of what else to say.

"What, like amnesia?" Carley asked surprised.

"That's what they're telling me." Undecided still on how to feel about the subject he decided to invest his attention back to the TV.

"Oh, this is all my fault." She could feel the tears welling up and had to look away. She got up to pace the room.

Dean didn't have to remember his life to know that he couldn't deal with a crying woman. With everything he'd just been told he should be the one crying, but he wasn't. He was bleeding and full of stitches and holes. He thought it better to use his anger than to let it bubble up from inside.

"You're right, it is. You should go," he said annoyed with how she'd caused the accident and the fluttering in his stomach. He didn't want to deal with tears.

He winced a little as he tried to sit up in the bed. The cuts and bruises were really taking a toll on him. He touched his chest, more aware than ever that with the slightest movement he could pull the stitches.

Carley crossed to him. "Are you all right? Should I get the nurse?" Automatically she touched his leg.

Dean felt a relief in his chest at her touch but decided to let it mean nothing. "No, I'm okay."

"Maybe you should sit back."

He did and she was surprised. From her experience not many men took the advice of a woman. It was like feeling inferior to them, unable to control the situation. Carley had been through that experience with Cameron. He'd tried to use everything in his power to control her. Lying was at the top of that list. He'd been lying to her for the three years she put into the relationship.

Even if they were thinking the same thing, they dealt with it completely different. Someone who had enjoyed it had hurt Carley physically before. Now that she was out of that situation the only reaction she could have was to sooth, because no one had tried for her, it seemed that much more important.

She tried to help him reposition the pillows behind his head. The fatigue started to drain the color from his face. He was a lot worse off than she'd thought. She started to pull the covers up and over him unaware of the way her instincts told her to nurture him.

"You're not my nurse, you're the reason I'm in this damn bed," Dean snapped, agitated by her fluffing and touching.

He refused to let the expression on her face touch his heart. Her soft blue eyes that were so inviting and warm became sad, her lips pursed tight in hopes of holding back more tears. Her lashes fluttered closed briefly and stirred his belly with desire. He looked away, refusing to feel bad. "You should just go."

"I think you're right." Carley stepped back and reached deep down inside for strength.

Dean let his head fall back onto his pillow, and the ache wrap itself around him and squeeze.


End file.
